Undesired Craving
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: It's not my fault he makes me crave more. Nor is it my fault that I hate to love him, yet love to hate him. Near... as addictive and sickening as white chocolate. He who I don't want to crave, yet do. .:. MelloNear oneshot with hints of MattMello.


**A/N: **because I wanted another oneshot of them, heh heh. I love this pairing too much. _Mello X Matt_ is still second best, though, and you'll see some hints of it in this. ;)

* * *

_It's not my fault he makes me crave more._

At least, that's what I tell myself. I tell myself he's like chocolate, white chocolate. He's creamy and sweet and addictive, but once you have too much you get sick and want to throw your guts up. Or, in my case, throw my heart up. Yeah, Near's like that.

Because who can resist him? He's still and calm and utterly sure of himself and his decisions. He acts like he has it all figured out, and half the time he does. And when he doesn't, he bluffs. And you lose either way.

It's insane, what he does to me. Ever since our days at the Wammy House… He was there, in front of me. A challenge come to life, a perfectly pearlescent boy who caught my attention and no one else's. Sure, they knew his name (and more specifically his grades), but they didn't dare venture close to him.

_Yet I did. And I couldn't stay away._

Matt thought it was suicide. In a way, that was true. I drove myself to new lengths every time a new project or homework sheet was passed out in the orphanage/school. I took it as a direct challenge from Near, even if he didn't challenge me verbally. Yet I felt the crushing need to surpass Near and become L's successor above him. Above Number One. Above my own limits. Because I thought I could. No, I thought I _should_. I **had** to. I had to be better than Near. I had to prove that I was as good – no, even better! – than he was.

In retrospect, I wasn't cut out for it. I was madly, **fixatedly**, _murderously_ infatuated with the softly-spoken white-haired boy to the brink of tearing my eyes from their sockets. I desired to surpass him at first, but as the years went by… I desired _him _and only_ him_.

Poor Matt was jealous. He thought there was an "us". He stuck by me and I stuck by him, and we've done things some people might consider to be couple-like things, but I didn't desire Matt the way I did Near. Near was what I craved, what I was addicted to most. More than chocolate. More than Matt as his cigarettes or video games.

_More than anything in the world._

At one point, it became too much. I had to escape, else I would break into two. Those hungry kisses I ground into him, the sliding of hands against frozen skin… he was uncomfortable with it. And I was unstoppable. So unstoppable, it was hard to stop myself. And I hated not being in control of things, especially my own body and raging hormones.

So I left Wammy House and went into hiding.

I knew Near would try and find me. And I tried to bury whatever contorted, sick feelings I held for him. I replaced those feelings with the old flame of rivalry. And I waited. For a chance.

_A chance to be Number One instead of Number Two. Like the old days._

The Kira case was my chance. I dove into it, drowning myself in facts and opinions and schemes. Perhaps I went too far…

But I did it all for Near.

I did it for him, and my addiction. To either fuel it once more or to extinguish it, I still don't know. But whichever it was, something happened. Something sparked. Because Near found me, or rather, I found him. And we met after so long.

Seeing him in person again… he hardly changed. His face still had a baby-roundness to it, his locks of hair were still curly and snow white and between his fingers while he talked. And he still had toys all over the place in the same manner that L had sugary, fruity confections surrounding him. To keep him awake and alert and satisfied. In Near's case, to keep him entertained and ever working his mind.

I hated him and loved him. I wanted to kill him and kiss him. I wanted blood, I wanted glory, but also wanted bliss and resolve.

I never got any of those things.

I think Near was after the better relationship between us. Always. I think he looked to obtain peace between us, while I went for the gore. Why must I be so sadistic? So masochistic? Because I was hurting myself, too… every day. Near did that to me: he drove my to insanities I never thought my level, blonde-mopped head would reach.

Sometimes I wish I could blow it all to bits with my gun. Everything; the stress, the rage, the passion, the tension. It might help Near. More importantly, it might help me. And Matt; dear Matt was always caught in the middle of things, despite his urge to stay on the sidelines away from the chaos.

Our final meeting, hidden behind closed doors, went like this:

* * *

"_Mello." He muttered coolly, his grey eyes – so much like L's – glancing down at a pair of dice on the table between us._

"_What, Near?" I spat hotly. I attempted to keep my heart rate down by clenching my fists. _

"_There is something you wish to tell me."_

"_How d'you know if I have something to say or not?" I questioned._

"_Like it or not, I know you, Mello. I grew up with you. I know what goes on in your mind, though I'd rather not. So say what it is you have to say."_

_I hesitated. He sensed it, too. He glanced up at me, and my eyes took in every curve of his face and every shadow cast upon it from the light hanging above. "Goodbye, Near. That's all I want to say. Because after this moment, I doubt I'll see you again."_

"_What makes you so sure of that?" he asked._

_I laughed bitterly. "Come on, Near, don't tell me you think I'll live through this Kira case. I won't admit why not, but I know you feel it. My time is coming soon. How droll."_

"_Mello…" He said my name like it was icing on his tongue. It melted my insides like a warm carving knife through butter. I didn't show that outwardly, of 'course. Instead…_

"_Don't," I insisted. I placed my hands on the table, one black glove beside each dice. "It's unsalvageable madness, Near."_

_He stood from his crouched, L-like position to meet me. He leant on the table as well, his hands covering mine. Such contrast, my leather gloves and his skin… as different as the black dots on the white background of the dice between us. "Us, or this case?"_

_I smirked half-heartedly. "Both."_

_He sighed and leant away. "I wish neither was so unsalvageable. I still believe I'll catch Kira, thanks to you. But it won't end pleasantly."_

"_Neither will we. Because this? Right now? This is our end, Near. The end of this… this… undesired craving I have."_

"_You don't want to be with me, do you? You never have."_

_He stared at me then, right into my very soul, and I felt my stomach drop to my knees with his gaze. I lowered my eyes. "No. We're too different-minded. Too unfitting for one another." I paused. "I'm addicted to you but don't wish to be." _

"_Why not?" he whispered so lowly I hardly heard him. I watched his lips move and had to partially read them in order to understand. _

"_I can't explain it." I removed myself from the table and began to pace four steps left of him, five steps right. Left, right, while I spoke: "But you sound as if you want me to be with you. Don't you hate me, too? Don't you want to be better than me? You already won the title of L's successor; what more do you want?"_

"_I can't explain it, either, Mello. But I've always been drawn to you. You have a… _strong_ demeanor, one that never backs down. And I'm jealous of it. You're very confident. Me? I hide behind my puzzles and toys. I cling to childish things to escape the world outside. But you walk in it like it's no big deal. I envy that about you… Second best in grades at Wammy House, yes, but never second best to the orphans there. They liked you. They played games with you. And you never appreciated any of it. I was alone by choice… and against my will. I wish I could've had friends. I wish I would've been your friend, Mello. Why did you push me away and pull me to you like you did? It confuses me to this day, since you're still doing it."_

_I was quiet for a long, long time. Near was almost in tears. Glistening, beautiful tears on his marble cheeks; the kinds of tears I would have killed to have him create when we were younger. And the softness in his eyes right now! So unlike the edge he's had in the past. It's very… attractive. _

_And it was strange; he never said so many words to me at one time. And never so _honestly_. _

_I shattered my façade at once and for ten whole minutes, I was a regular human being. "Near…" I said as gently as my coarse voice was able. "I'm sorry."_

_I couldn't help myself; I brought him into my arms. He felt… small. Helpless. And very unlike the Near I knew and cherished/despised. _

"_You better leave," he said._

_I broke the embrace and stared at him for an everlasting minute. He leant up to kiss my parted lips._

_And I let him. _

_Then… I left._

* * *

I didn't know at the time where that left Near and I. And I never got the chance to figure it out. But it didn't matter to me.

It choked my insides to somehow hold onto that undesirable craving, yet I wasn't able to let go. My heart refused to, as furious as my brain was with the situation. A walking contraction I was, a living oxymoron. Or just plain 'moron'; yes, I think that word suffices.

Because I was stupid enough to lay eyes on Near in the first place.


End file.
